


Yuuri Katsuki is a Masochist

by LadyCFLink



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: AU, Affairs, BDSM, Barista Katsuki Yuuri, Bondage, Businessman Victor Nikiforov, Heavy BDSM, Kinky, M/M, Masochism, Pain, Pain Kink, Smut, barista
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-03 23:24:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16335227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyCFLink/pseuds/LadyCFLink
Summary: Victor Nikiforov is living in the lap of luxury. He has a great job, a sexy husband, amazing house, and he is sexy as hell. It all just gets so boring and he needs something to spice up his life. That's where the barista, Yuuri Katsuki, comes in. What started out as a friendly relationship between barista and coffee shop patron soon develops into a kinky affair after Victor learns about Yuuri's second, considerably more exciting night job. Yuuri turns out to be exactly what Victor needed to break up the monotony of living the perfect life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey y'all. 
> 
> This fic was inspired by some of the others I've read recently. This is the first time I've ever attempted to write something like this, so I hope I can do it justice. Chapters will be short and sweet.  
> I'm always up for comments and constructive criticism. Please feel free to share your thoughts. 
> 
> Enjoy!

Victor Nikiforov-Giacometti had an ideal life. His husband, Christophe, was the love of his life. His job consistently brought in six figures with little to no effort on his part. His house was every designer's wet dream and could easily have graced the covers of numerous magazines several times over. Plus, he was good-looking enough to draw stares every time he so much as walked down the street. Who could ever ask for more? Yes, Victor was most definitely living the high life.

But damn if it didn't get _boring_.

Every morning, Victor followed the same routine: wake up; shower; breakfast; work; home; dinner; bed. Monotony. Boredom. Same story, different day. Victor would have given _anything_ if it meant bringing some excitement into his excruciatingly boring lifestyle. Chris tried to help, good god, he tried. He was certainly effective in shaking up their sex life. But it still just wasn't enough for Victor Everything was still just so... _vanilla_. Victor needed something wild, something new.

Victor needed _him._

 

“Hello! Welcome to Machiavelli's. What can I get started for you?”

The smile that accompanied the greeting was genuine enough. Yuuri Katsuki _did_ enjoy working in the small coffee shop, he just found that it got so dull sometimes, especially in comparison to his second job. Fortunately, he had found a solution to the dull monotony of his work.

Yuuri had taken to imagining the intimate lives of nearly every person he encountered.

The soccer mom at the table in the corner, toddler in tow? She was the sassy little role play slut who devoted her nights to indulging her husband's every fantasy, no matter how wild. The frat boy dropping corny pickup lines in a dismal attempt at wooing the poor girl just trying to do her schoolwork? He was a closet gay with a fetish for being hogtied and violated. The timid, ultra-conservative coworker who _always_ wore a cross around her neck? She was the queen of blow jobs, always leaving her partners sated and stupid by the time she was finished.

_No one_ was safe from the perversions of Yuuri Katsuki's mind.

 

“Hi! Welcome to Mac-” the greeting caught in Yuuri's throat when he laid eyes on the most gorgeous man alive: silver hair, impeccably styled; unnaturally beautiful blue eyes; high end suit tailored to accentuate every curve and hard line of his body. At that moment, Yuuri was more than grateful for the apron tied around his waist, as he had suddenly found himself at attention. His mind went blank to all thought, save for what he wanted to do with that man.

What he wanted that man to do to _him._

_“_ Yuuri? Yuuuuuuuri?”

An unfamiliar, foreign accent called to him. Was that Russian? Pale, slender fingers waved and snapped before Yuuri's face, restoring some modicum of brain functionality. He found himself staring into tropical pools of blue.

“Good. Now that I have your attention, are you ready to take my order Yuuri?”

Still slightly stupid, Yuuri wondered how the handsome stranger could possibly know his name. Some still-functioning portion of his mind reminded himself that he was, in fact, wearing a coffee shop issued name tag. He gathered the remaining brain function he had left and took the Russian's order.

“May I have a name for your order?”

“Of course, of course. Put it down for Victor”

Victor

Yuuri filed that information away in his mind. He would, most definitely, put it to use later. He stored it in the register and collected the man's payment with an apology for spacing out, fully expecting to be embarrassed and berated. However, Victor was quite the opposite from what Yuuri expected from a man like him. He was jovial and forgiving, and Yuuri found himself falling into easy conversation with the Russian that lasted until his name was called to collect his latte. They bad each other farewell and Yuuri watched as Victor left the store with a wave. He expected he would never see the foreigner again.

Oh how wrong he was..

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Victor added a new item to his daily routine: coffee. Specifically coffee from a little shop called Machiavelli's. Ever since his awkward, yet oddly satisfying encounter with the barista called Yuuri, he found himself drawn to the little coffee shop. Or perhaps more accurately, drawn to specific dark-haired, chocolate-eyed Japanese man that worked there. Soon, he had Yuuri's schedule memorized and made a point to leave home just a little earlier to have time to chat with the younger man. Victor always left the shop with a spring in his step and a brighter outlook on the day ahead. Yuuri always left the shop with an extra $20 in his pocket.

The two men soon developed a friendship outside of Machiavelli's. It started when Victor slipped a business card in with the payment for his latte, giving Yuuri an exaggerated wink and loudly whispering, “I put my personal number on there just for you Yuuri.” He flashed a million watt smile as he swiped his drink off the counter. He hustled out of the shop, latte in hand and still grinning, leaving Yuuri rapidly darkening to an unflattering shade of pink.

Yuuri spent his breaks that day staring between the business card and his cell phone. By the end of his shift, he had resolved to call Victor. Or, at the very least, send him a text. He didn't want to interrupt anything, after all.

Yuuri's shift ended at 3. By the time he'd taxied home to his small, inner city apartment, kicked off his shoes, settled on the couch, and slipped out his phone, he was starting to have some doubts. Several seconds of concentrated staring and shaking fingers later, he had composed a text of a single word. Still shaking, he tapped the 'send' icon.

_[Lunch?]_

 

And so began a new routine. Once a week, Victor and Yuuri met for lunch and idle chat. They talked about everything from work to home to the smallest intricacies of their lives. Victor had come to thoroughly enjoy their time together. Admittedly, more than he probably should have. Sometimes he had to remind himself he was a _happily_ married man; however, he did find his thoughts wandering to the slender Japanese man when he was relentlessly fucking his husband. At least he had the decency to feel ashamed.

One afternoon, during regular lunch date, the conversation turned to sex. By that time, Victor had spent enough time with Yuuri to get a good enough feel for his personality. Yuuri had a naturally shy disposition, especially when it came to anything new. However, since their first lunch, Victor had witnessed the younger man relax and drop his guard. Victor fully expected such an intimate subject would turn his friend into a blushing, stuttering mess. Imagine his surprise when _Yuuri_ was the one to bring it up.

“So Victor, is there anything in particular you've ever wanted to try in bed?”

Victor had to physically bite his tongue to prevent himself from outright blurting “You!” Instead, he made a non-committal noise and turned the question back on the one who asked it. Yuuri confided that he had discovered a fondness for the BDSM scene. He rummaged in his bag for a moment, then slid a card across the table. Some of his new found confidence appeared to be slipping as his ears reddened and his voice took on a nervous quake.

“This is a...uh...a dungeon that I like going to...so um, you know...if you ever wanna check it out. Just ask for Mila.”

Their lunch ended soon after that, Yuuri having slipped into awkward silence after offering the card. Victor pocketed it and paid for their meal, saying goodbye to Yuuri with a promise to text him later about their next outing. Once back in his car, Victor pulled the card out of his pocket to better examine it. It was simple in design, nothing extravagant: black background with the word _Fatale_ scrawled across it in red script. There was an address printed on the back but nothing else, not even a phone number. Victor shrugged and smiled to himself before slipping the card back into his pocket. It was worth checking out. Especially since Yuuri recommended it.

 

Chris's job as an elite fashion journalist often involved travel. On this particular weekend, he was scheduled to fly to the other side of the country for a prestigious fashion show in New York, leaving Victor alone and desperate for some company. He tried calling Yuuri in hopes that he would go out for a drink, but there was no answer. Pouting, Victor threw himself backward onto the plush comforter of his bed.

Then, he remembered the card.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well guys, this is my first chaptered work, so bare with me as I get the hang of things. Next chapter should start getting a little spicy. Hope y'all are enjoying reading as much as I'm enjoying writing!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally finished putting chapter 3 together! Sorry to keep y'all waiting. 
> 
> We're finally delving into the kinky stuff. Victor gets to experience his very first sex dungeon. I wonder who he will encounter there. Read on to find out loves!

Victor found himself standing across the street from a dilapidated old building. He double, triple, quadruple checked the address but, according to the card, he was at the right place. He was starting to question whether Yuuri had been serious, or if he had just played an elaborate prank on a naive fool. Victor shrugged to himself and decided that, since he was already there, he'd give it a shot.

What was the worst that could happen?

Victor threw open the well-worn door, bracing himself for the worst. What awaited inside was the exact opposite of what he expected. The weathered exterior was merely a facade for what lie within.

Just through the door was a small lobby that reminded Victor of the waiting room for his office. The waiting area was dimly lit, the only light coming from only a few lights deeply recessed in the ceiling. The word _Fatale_ was scrawled across the rearmost wall in script that matched the card in Victor's hand; the neon sign bathing the room in a soft red glow. The scent of leather and lubricant permeated the space. Everything worked together to create an atmosphere of depraved intimacy quite befitting of a dungeon.

Not that Victor would know.

To the left of the doorway was what Victor assumed to be a reception desk. Two women were stationed there, one seated behind the desk while the other perched atop it. Their animated conversation halted the moment Victor crossed the threshold. The woman sitting on the desk unfolded her long, pretty legs and gracefully dropped onto dangerously tall, dangerously thin stiletto heals. She eyed Victor slowly from head to toe, leaving him squirming uncomfortably under her scrutiny, voice temporarily disabled. The woman's face broke out into a wide grin and she threw her arms open in welcome.

“Welcome to _Fatale_. Here, you can find almost anything your perverse little heart could desire: men, women, dominants, submissives. Whatever you like. My name is Mila. And you are?”

So this woman was Mila, the one Yuuri recommended. She was far from what Victor had imagined and he questioned whether someone like her actually belonged in a place like _Fatale_. Mila certainly looked the part, dressed from neck to ankle in leather and spikes and a rolled whip fixed to her hip. However, her cheerful, overenthusiastic attitude and demeanor suggested that this was not a place for her. Nonetheless, Yuuri recommended her, so Victor offered his name in response. Mila purred something reassuring in Russian, leaving him gaping at this odd woman.

“How did you know?” Mila had only heard Victor speak a single word, yet somehow she knew they hailed from the same homeland. She simply winked and flashed a mischievous smirk.

“A little piggy told me.”

Mila slipped back into their native tongue, prodding Victor with a barrage of questions regarding his preferences, sprinkling in some good-natured conversation as well. Victor felt the tension melting away as he carried on with this woman. Perhaps it was from speaking his mother tongue, but he felt it had more to do with Mila's personality and the way she so easily soothed him just with her presence. He wondered how that would translate in the dungeon. He had never been with a woman before.

After Mila was satisfied with her questioning, she clapped her hands gleefully and declared, “ I know exactly where to put you. Follow me.”

Wait. What? Victor had been under the assumption that he would be Mila's client. He expressed as much, earning a hearty laugh from the Russian woman.

“Oh no no no darling. I only take _established_ clients. But don't you worry, my comrade. You will be well cared for. Now, _follow me_.”

The last part was a command, not a request, and Victor took that to mean 'get your ass in gear.'

He followed Mila through a pair of double doors underneath the _Fatale_ sign that opened into a hallway lined on either side with metal doors. Mila's demeanor immediately changed upon crossing that threshold and Victor no longer doubted whether she belonged. Hell, he wouldn't have been surprised if she _ruled_ the place given her barked orders and the hasty “yes ma'am”s coming from anyone unfortunate enough to cross her path.

After what felt like a mile of labyrinth-like turns, Mila finally stopped outside a closed metal door that looked like all the rest. She plastered the grin back on her face as she gestured to it.

“The safe word is 'katsudon'. You are free to do what you like. You have one hour.”

With that, she turned gracefully on her lethal stiletto heels and sauntered down the hall, leaving Victor staring at the door before him. He was left, once again, wondering what awaited him behind closed doors.

The door opened into a dimly lit room filled with more sex toys than Victor had ever seen (and he and Chris had an extensive collection). Lining the walls were shelves overflowing with dildos, vibrators, fleshlights, toys of every shape and size imaginable, and toys that Victor couldn't even begin to _imagine_ what to do with. An armoire stood open in one corner revealing whips, floggers, paddles, and riding crops. Coiled in the bottom of the armoire were assorted lengths of ropes and chains. Victor was certain there was so much more to discover in the room, but what caught his eye immediately was the chair in the center of the room lit by a single spotlight in the ceiling.

And the chair's current occupant.

The man had clearly already been used that night. Tightly knotted ropes bound his wrists behind the back of the chair while heavy iron shackles secured his ankles to the chair legs. Livid red welts and rapidly purpling bruises spattered the bare, pale canvas of skin from his neck to his ankles. His body heaved with heavy breaths, flaccid cock swaying ever so slightly with every breath. Come striped his naked abdomen, only adding to the masterpiece of abuse and debauchery. A leather mask shrouded the man's eyes, yet his blindness only seemed to heighten his remaining senses. His head swiveled in Victor's direction when the heavy door swung shut, stopping to focus on the space just to Victor's left. The heavy breaths slowed until the man was eerily still in his bindings.

The sight of the man in the center of the room presented as some obscene offering, the intimate yet abusive atmosphere of the room, the overwhelming scent of sex and obscene proclivities; they all hit Victor right in the groin. His cock sprung to life almost immediately, though something about the man in chair held his attention even more than his libido. The longer he stared, the more he was convinced he had seen that man somewhere before. Something about him was just so... _familiar._ Victor crossed the room in a few long strides and raised the mask to reveal the face of his slave. Unmistakeable chocolate brown eyes peered up through long gorgeous lashes and a voice, rasped by exclamations of either pain or pleasure purred.

“Welcome _Master._ ”

 


End file.
